B equals S
by lanzky
Summary: "She wears very elegant dress. She wears pressed formal attires. She wears frumpy jumpers." set after HLV. T for safety.


Hello~ I know, I know, **another story when you haven't updated the others?**

I thought of this while reading other stories,

 _Molly doesn't need to have a body of a goddess to entice men._

But it lead to this huhu... i don't even know what this is. lol

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the plot of THIS story.**

I hope you enjoy~

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John's heart is breaking to thousands of pieces as he talk with his partner. He may not be gifted with reading people and deducing stuff like Sherlock is, but he was not an idiot. He could see in the man's eye how he was trying to lighten the mood.

He doesn't want to make the same mistake twice. No. He knew Sherlock means goodbye for real and he can't leave him broken like he did before. He have to be strong because now he had Mary and their child.

John swallowed down the lump forming in his throat. He was seeing his best friend's last moments second time around and he still can't do anything to stop it.

He laughed at his joke. The only thing he could do for him now is smile and not break down.

So when they received the news that Moriarty's back, he can't stop feeling thankful to the man that caused all this. He can't even feel guilty at that thought.

In the car ride back to 221B Baker Street. Mycroft had set teams to guard and monitor the area around the flat to make sure it is safe. And he seemed to have ask some more teams to collect and secure Greg and Mrs. Hudson.

The rush of relief had subsided. He wasn't expecting Moriarty to be alive but at the same time he can't say he's surprised after all Sherlock returned from the grave after two years. They shouldn't have expected less from the man that claimed to be his equal.

He thought but he still can't find himself to believe that sitting on his old chair in his old flat is a woman, was The Woman.

When the doctor entered the door, he was expecting to see Greg, but wasn't expecting to see him wary sitting on the couch. Mrs. Hudson is there too, visibly confused but was showing distaste at the unfamiliar woman. He witnessed them jumped when Sherlock slammed the door open.

John observed Sherlock, he doesn't seem to be affected by this turn of events. The prick even had the balls to sit in front of her. _He fucking knew._

Mycroft's face didn't twitch a muscle. But he can guess he was taken aback by the way he froze for a second the moment he laid eyes on her. He strode next to the window, making sure his body was out of sight of any sniper, he was watching the world outside.

And his wife sat at the couch beside the sweet older lady, easing her swollen feet.

She didn't change. Her scarlet lips. Her proud posture. The way she eyes Sherlock. Nothing changed.

Mary had read his blog, she knows about The Woman. Everyone must've known her in one way or another. They were all watching her. His wife was throwing distasteful look to Irene.

Mary had been rooting for Molly for Sherlock ever since she first met her at their wedding. She always reprimanded Sherlock that there is something more about her, he just have to untie the ribbon.

Even Mrs. Hudson had a disapproving look. She must have remember about the phone and the pain she brought to her son. Sherlock was the son she never had.

Except the acknowledging nods and looks, no one had said anything since they had arrived.

John was about to comment on her when she spoke up, her eyes never leaving the consulting detective, "Short story, still alive, pet."

John doesn't even know why he still gets surprised. Of course the female that can match up with Sherlock's intelligence can fake death too.

He sighed heavily in response to this tiring day.

First, his best friend was exiled.

Second, his best friend's arch nemesis is alive.

Third, his best friend's exile was cancelled and he'd be safe.

Fourth, the realization of grave danger.

and lastly, his best friend's crush is alive too.

Oh, poor Molly would lose her job, with all the dead people turning up alive and kicking.

He felt bile rising from his stomach, a twinge of betrayal on the back of his brain. He pushed it down, he knew this wasn't the time to give Sherlock a piece of his mind.

"Sentiments," Mycroft spoke slowly, "my dear brother."

Sherlock and Irene are staring at each other since he arrived. Mycroft could see his brother was still smitten with The Woman. It disgust him.

As a man of intelligence, a part of him understand Sherlock. A woman with that kind of intelligence would surely pique his interest too. But he can't, for the love of Queen, fall for it.

He is wiser than that. He can see every part of her that she uses to lure a man.

Her body and brain.

Speaking of brilliant women, he knew Anthea was communicating with their people around London. But where was Molly.

As long as possible he avoids showing emotion around unwanted presence, especially since others can use it against him.

The mousy woman had dug a small hole for herself in his heart during the two years his brother was gone. He at first only wanted to make sure that the person who helped his brother stay alive was updated regularly about Sherlock's well being.

For the first meeting, he had readied himself to tolerate a hopeless-romantic, blobbing goldfish for half an hour tops. Yet he found himself, 8 minute into the meeting, in a mutual embrace. He even let a tear free.

Dread was crawling in his skin. He was deleting pictures after pictures, scenarios after scenarios that flashes on his mind. He was fighting hard not to pace around his brother's flat, not to shout for reports, not to run outside and hop in the nearest car.

He silently prayed to God, he hoped she is currently sitting on one of his car and on the way here. He gripped his umbrella tighter.

It wasn't lost on the two very observant people in the room despite how they were undressing each other with eyes only.

"Mr. Holmes, I assure you that I am on the same boat as you. Moriarty will come and kill me." The woman said.

If he wasn't feeling his stomach churn with worry, he would have laugh at her. He would not extend the list of people that he had to protect. He doesn't care about anything other than her right now.

"The only plan right now is to wait for him. Just like in the game. I'm sure he would contact us." Sherlock finally broke his staring contest and looked at the people on the other side of the room.

Anthea was standing at the door now, rapidly clicking her mobile. " There will be security 24/7 around your houses and the place you work if you wish to continue going." She already sent people, "And there will be tails to Sherlock, Dr. and Mrs. Watson, Mr. Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and Ms. Adler."

"No. No security to Ms. Adler, Anthea." Mycroft said, still gazing outside. She nodded.

"No! He'll target me!" Irene stood in protest. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows.

"You should have just stayed dead then." Mycroft flatly said. "And Anthea," she looked up from her phone, "double on the elf." She nodded again but with a small smile this time. And went back outside closing the door behind her.

"Then I'll live here." Irene smiled mischievously. She can see the eminent worry in the elder Holmes facade and the lust under the younger one's cold eyes. naughty me, she thought to herself, playing the siblings on the palm of her hand, she would bring it inside a bedroom if it wasn't for the danger lurking freely right now.

The man in three piece suit didn't give her attention and continued his surveillance of the bustling street down the window.

She can feel the burning stare of the other occupants. _Lovely, it seems even after marriage he still is jealous_. She tilted her head to get a better view of John, "Congratulations," she said.

"What?" John's voice was laced with angriness and bitterness.

"On your wedding and the baby."

He cleared his throat, reluctant to be polite but his mother taught him better. "Thanks... I guess."

The pregnant woman cleared her throat, "Sweetie, how about an introduction?" She said with a smile so sweet that almost fooled her. _She was good_ , she thought.

John thought for awhile and was about to open his mouth when Sherlock butt in. "No need, Mary. She's a nobody."

She chuckled, "That can't be true Sherl, you and the good doctor had seen me in my best."

Mary glared at her husband, a long storm was coming after this one ends.

"So what do you say?" She went back to the earlier topic. "But before you answer," she waved one finger in the air to silence Sherlock, " You've used my house once as a bolt hole."

Mycroft's head snapped to look at his brother, enraged, "That's where you were when we can't track you?"

"Angry that I slipped under your nose? That she completely played you for a fool." Sherlock didn't look guilty, "Even going so far to cover her _death_ to protect my feelings."

Seeing where this was going, the landlady tut at them, " Boys! I don't know what all the commotion is but I can see that this is really important," she have known Sherlock and have been in many life and death situations for being his associate and is already used to it, " Stop acting like spoiled children and finish this quickly." She stood as she end her speech and went to the kitchen. Tea and biscuits would calm everyone up. John followed her to help, thinking the same thing.

Mycroft resumed his activity, they could see his stiff shoulder.

"Fine," Sherlock finally conceded. She smiled a winning smile.

Greg had seen the broadcast. Moriarty was back. He knows the peril it brought and the reason why Sherlock, John, Mary , and Mrs. Hudson needs security from the government. But it doesn't make sense to kidnap him from a police station and assign him agents too. He voiced it out.

"Did I hear that right?" John asked re-entering the room with a tray of tea, "Moriarty was targeting us two years ago?"

Mary quickly stole the tray from his hands before he could manage to drop it.

The guilt inside her when she shot Sherlock was poisonous, eating her inside, quietly, slowly. While Sherlock killing for them was suffocating, each breath she takes burn her lungs.

Oh, she doesn't even want to think how it felt to mourn for two years and find out it was all for vain and later discover that his death was all for them. Discovering that he was torn from his home and tortured out of his mind to secure their safety. She felt sorry for her husband that had felt betrayed. And now confused.

She put the tray down at the nearest table, grabbed her husband's arm and guided him at the couch, "Sit down, John. You need to clear your head." In which he just complied.

Mrs. Hudson had taken the job to serve tea. Everyone took a sip at their own time. No one knows how to break the ice.

Then John let out a bitter laughter, "There is no hero, and even if there is, you are not one." Sherlock flinched, he wasn't furious. He was lost.

"People change." Sherlock said so quietly none of them almost heard because of Mycroft's tapping of foot.

The man had thrown out all his composure out the window it seems.

"Just sit down." Mrs. Hudson fussed over the British Government.

He wet his lips, "I'm fine." there was a touch of irritation on his voice.

It was bewildering to see him grow more and more restless as the clock ticks by.

"Let's have dinner together." Irene said disregarding the atmosphere.

"I don't eat while on a case." Sherlock flatly refused already bored at her, and found much interest at the newly discovered side of Mycroft.

"He won't attack us here in our little mouse hole," Irene was bemused by the Ice man's and the sociopath's lack of interest towards her, "He's a cat, he'll let us run around like little mice. That's what he enjoys."

"Well then, brother. It seems you don't need to bore a hole in Mrs. Hudson's floor." Sherlock agrees at the woman's theory, " It would be boring to just blow us all here. Not his type."

Then it clicked in Mycroft's mind, one mouse was so small that it just keep on walking right under these panther's and lioness' nose, even walking beside a psychotic _cat_. But he was sure that despite being invisible all this time, she's now on top of the list of persons in danger after all the stunt she pulled for this ungrateful bastard he calls a brother.

He was trying so hard to keep his dignity intact. Bursting out right now is not the best option nor a good one. He needs to remain calm, the elf will arrive safe and sound, and maybe a bit confused.

He had taken a codename for her, Anthea suggested it after she gushed on how cute the woman's pointy ears are. He can't unsee the elfish trait anymore after that, no thanks to his partner.

He plopped down at the chair beside him after a black car stopped in front of the flat. He visibly relaxed knowing that the car had arrived safely.

Sherlock's curiosity got the better of him and stride to the window. Seeing the men in suit get out of the car, he quirk his brow at his brother, "Molly." he whispered, a small smile formed on his lips.

The betrayal he felt was replaced with gratefulness. This is the first time he was glad to have a sharp brother. He never missed things he forgot.

He can't deny his attraction to The Woman. But it was only his body that wants her. He applauds her brain but he applauds Moriarty's just the same.

If they taught he is head over heels for her, they were complete idiots.

The only reason he saved her was because Kate had begged him. And he saw John in her.

If he will be in the same scenario, he knew that John, even if there's no possibility of being saved, would plead and beg. He hates sentiments but he can't stop himself from caring for this people.

Mycroft and John had been avoiding eye contact since this morning. He refused.

Shouting from down stairs brought him back, it was loud but not enough to be understandable.

Footsteps. Anthea was rushing back up. "Incompetent fools, you're all fired!" She shouted to the agents behind her as she opened the door. She was gripping her phone in one hand beside her, for once not busy with it. It was rare(but not impossible) for her not to fiddle with her phone, and never had he heard her shout and look livid before.

Mycroft frowned, "You can't fire anyone without my order."

"I can." She said firmly, eyes straight to her boss. Mycroft frowned deeper, she is a brilliant partner, never made a mistake.

"Elf was not at home and they can't find her in work nor anywhere she always go to." She said as a reason.

Sherlock already knew that _Elf_ is Molly. But he still can't process what she had just said. Molly was nowhere to be found.

Seeing the Holmes brother like a deer caught in the headlights was confusing and worrying. Everyone in attendance was confused at the sight and who the was the elf.

"Elf?" Mary asked Anthea. But the other ignored her, worry still evident on her while measuring her boss' reaction.

When she concluded that the two Holmes were not going to speak anytime soon but can see their mind shouting that the agents had just missed her.

She continued with a look that wish she wasn't the one who had to tell this, "There were blood scattered and signs of scuffle at the morgue." There was a strangled sobbed after she finished the sentence.

this was the last blow.

Mycroft immediately left the room with Anthea on tow.

Sherlock slid to the floor. Mrs. Hudson quickly went to his side, calming him.

Mary has started crying after hearing the word morgue. And her husband instantly comforted her.

Greg started pacing, telling Molly was fine, the blood was just from the bodies being dissected and she was just so clumsy she must have tripped and made a big mess in the morgue that they misread as a sign of fighting.

As much as he wants to believe what the Detective Inspector had just said, Sherlock knew too much about Molly. He knew how delicate and careful she is in the morgue. God, he even knows that she had never dropped a scalpel ever since she started working in St. Bartholomew.

The moment he jump two years ago, a single thing flashed and stayed in his mind palace. It became his philosophy, "Great things hide under hideous jumpers."

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A/N2: I have a question!

 **How long does it takes for you to write a 2-3k words story?**

next chapter, where is molly?


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